


Vegetables and Love

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: For H/C Bingo, Row 1 Column Four, "Bites"; and continuing my stories of how the women of the town deal with the Seven after "Obsession".  This is Inez.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Also - a stocking story for December 2016. Unbetaed, all mistakes my own.

“ _Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a fattened calf with hatred_ ” (Psalm 15:17)

 

 

It was almost dark and the saloon was busy with the end of the day crowd – which was maybe why Inez hadn't seen him come in, or move through the room, or settle into the table in the far back, by himself.

 

Maybe.

 

From the look of him, though, he could have been the ghost that she thought, at first, he was.

 

“Senor Vin?” she asked, startled as she turned from serving a nearby table to find him sitting there in the darkest corner of the room. Truth be told, had it not been for the heavy coat of pale sand and dust on him, she might not have seen in at all. It certainly added to the initial thought that she was seeing a ghost.

 

“'Nez,” he said but it was more a grinding sigh than a word.

 

She stepped closer, both compelled and repulsed. He still wore his hat – as he usually did, and it was pulled down to cast his face in even more shadow, though the layers of dust still caught the light in the room. His eyes seemed to glitter in those shadows, but the blue irises, usually so vivid, seemed washed out to a dull grey. His face seemed sharper, his cheeks sunken below the hard lines of his cheekbones, lines deep at the corners of his eyes and lips. The dust seemed encrusted there, as if the watering of his eyes and the wetting of his lips had created a rim of mud.

 

“Are you all right?” she asked without thinking – then she chastised herself. Of course he was not all right. None of the seven were all right, not since they had returned from that woman's place, with their leader, Senor Chris, wounded so badly that for over a week, there was the belief that he might die.

 

Now, he was stable and even moving, though not far; most afternoons, Inez could see him sitting on the boardwalk near the stairs to Nathan's clinic. One of the others would be near by, usually Josiah, but sometimes Senor Ezra or Senor Buck.

 

Senor Vin, however, was not around very much at all. Rumor had it that he was off looking for this woman who had almost killed Senor Chris. For this woman who had, indeed, killed his wife and child.

 

“Can I get a beer?” He asked – or she thought he did. The words were still rough and grating, as if he hadn't spoken in a very long time, or as if some of this sand had gotten into his throat.

 

“Of course,” she smiled. She moved away quickly, ignoring the calls from others who wanted her attention.

 

Matthew, her evening bartender, was busy waiting on customers, so she drew a beer herself and started around the bar, stopping when she had another thought. She went back into the kitchen and put together a plate of food – a big plate. Then she took a clean bar cloth and rinsed it in the clean water from the pump over the sink. She carried all of it in a tray back out into the saloon, once more ignoring the calls of others as she made her way back to the far corner.

 

He did not seem to have moved, though she knew he was watching everything. He always did.

 

She put the tray on the table and handed him the wet cloth first. “Your beer – and your food – will taste much better without the extra sand,” she said, smiling to temper her words.

 

He glanced at the cloth then, carefully so as not to touch her, he took it. “Shoulda washed up before I came in,” he said with a sigh. “I can -”

 

“You can use that,” she said, taking the beer of the tray and putting it near him but not too close. “Then you can eat, while the food is still hot.”

 

He hesitated still, and she reached out, pushing at the hand that held the towel. He sighed but did as she asked, wiping first at his face. He did a thorough job, pushing back his hat and scrubbing around his eyes, before turning his attention to his hands. When he finally looked back up at her, he looked better, the layer of grime gone so that his skin, tanned from the sun, was harder to see in the shadows. His eyes still looked pale, but his lips turned up a little, a hint of a grin. “Better?” he asked.

 

“Much,” she said, pushing the plate toward him. “Now eat.”

 

He did. She watched him take the fork, cutting into a meat and bean tamale, then shoveling a large bite of it into his mouth. He ate with determination, as if he hadn't eaten in days – which may have been the case. Each bite was large and he didn't take a lot time to chew, swallowing quickly and stopping only long enough to drink from the beer.

 

She left, stopping at a few tables on the way to the bar and clearing plates and taking drink reorders. It didn't take a long while, but by the time she made it back to Vin's table with another beer for him, his plate was empty as was his beer mug. He was staring out the window into the night, though light from many windows and from the watchfires made it easy enough to see the people moving around, the shops that were still open for the late in the day customers. From this point, though, he could also see the stairs up to Nathan's clinic, and Inez suspected that was what he watched.

 

“He was down earlier,” she said quietly as she put the full mug down before him. “He seems to be getting better – at least, he seems to move better.”

 

Vin didn't answer her, though he did turn and glance at her before picking up the beer and talking along drink of it. While he did, she gathered his empty plate and the beer mug onto the tray. But she didn't yet move away, considering what she wanted to ask.

 

Or, more to the point, how to ask it. She knew, though, that it was best to be direct with Vin Tanner, so she was. “Have you found this woman?”

 

He sighed and put down his mug, sitting back in his chair. He looked back out the window and spoke so quietly that she had to lean in to hear what she could.

 

“. . . can't find any sign of her – nowhere. Can't believe she got away from me, but I been everywhere in this territory – more than once in some cases.” He shook his head and she thought she saw his shoulders slump though it was hard to tell in this shadow.

 

“Well,” Inez said slowly, taking the time to think about her words. “While I do not know much of this woman, if she has been plotting this long to win Senor Chris back to her, if she did, as I have heard, do such wicked things to his wife and child, then I think she has also had a plan to get away if necessary.”

 

Vin didn't look at her, though he did make a small nod. She didn't think it was an agreement, though, so much as a sign that he had heard her.

 

She lifted the tray, wanting to say more. He was a good man, a man who had saved her from doing something very stupid not so long ago. A man who had made her see that this place was a place where she could make a home.

 

She had little doubt but that he was speaking them from his own heart, from his own sense that this was a good place.

 

She turned, walking about to the kitchen with the tray. Manuelo, the dishwasher and kitchen help, was in the back, serving up another order for dinner.

 

“Are we busy?” she asked, setting Vin's dishes on the table beside the washing sink. 

 

“Nothing I cannot take care of,” he said with a smile. He was a hard worker, and he appreciated that she had given him the chance at this bar. 

 

She smiled back at him. “I am going to sit with a customer for a time. Let me know if you need help or if Matthew needs help.”

 

Manuelo nodded and said, as she expected, “I think we can handle it, senora. I will help at the bar, if it is needed.”

 

He often called her senora, though he knew she was not married. She thought it was a sign of respect so she had stopped chastising him for it.

 

She made her way behind the bar and told the same to her bartender as she poured another beer for Vin and a glass of sherry for herself. The liquor was a little sweeter than she would have preferred, but it was hard to get fresh fruit for the sangria which she liked. As it got cooler, though, in the fall, she would order oranges and lemons from California and make a large batch for Christmas. Matthew nodded, somber as he always was. 

 

Vin was still staring out the window when she came back to the table, though she had no doubt he knew she was there. She put the beer near him and, after a hesitation, she pulled out a chair and sat down. It occurred to her that she had never sat down with him alone before.

 

It also occurred to him that others would probably have things to say about it.

 

But for right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was what she wanted to say to him, while she had the chance.

 

She took a drink of her brandy, letting it burn in her mouth and down her throat, pooling in her stomach and warming her body and her courage. She took full advantage of it, looking at the side of his face that was close to her and saying, “You told me once that I had to make a stand and that this was a good place to do it – that the people here are good people. You were right. I owe you a lot, Senor Vin – in truth, I owe you everything. You stopped me from killing Don Paulo, and you, and your friends, fought for me.”

 

Vin swallowed and turned to look at her, his movements slow, as if he were so tired he could barely move. Which, now that she considered it, he may have been. She couldn't recall the last time she had seen him, which would have been the last time he was in town.

 

She could recall that he was hardly in town for more than a night at a time, not since they had returned with Senor Chris so seriously hurt, and that was going on two months now.

 

“You think I was wrong?” he asked, his voice so low and soft that she had to strain to hear it – and then, not sure that she had heard it right. 

 

He stared at her, his gaze so direct that she felt as if he were seeing into her, through her. As if he thought she were a danger.

 

She raised a hand to her throat without thinking, wondering if she had made a grave mistake, but then she understood what he was really asking.

 

“No, you were not wrong, then, nor are you wrong now,” she said quietly. “You took care of me when you hardly knew who I was. I know that you are taking care of him, who you know well, with even more courage. And with even more commitment.” 

 

He blinked and then looked away, as if he could not hold her gaze. “Don't know why you'd say that,” he said – or she thought he did. The words were, again, low and quiet.

 

She sighed and took another sip of her drink, pushing his beer toward him at the same time. He picked it up and took a sip, and she waited until he had swallowed to answer. “I have not been here as long as many of you, that is true. But unlike many here, I have had you all – all of you, not just Buck – protecting me personally. You, yourself, took me as your personal charge. I know the dedication you gave to the promise you made to protect me. And I know that you have given no less – and you will give no less – to that man,” she said, pointing out the window. “Because he is your closest friend. One who shares a part of your soul.”

 

She hadn't really meant to say the last part. She had gotten carried away, remembering what he had done for her, what he and the others had been willing to risk to protect her. And remembering how he had tried to save Senor Josiah, the town's padre, from the horrible accusations made by that Pinkerton man – who had ended up being the actual murderer.

 

Remembering how, when the woman in white had shown up in town while Senor Chris was away, Vin had been the one who had first walked away from her, here in the saloon, when she had made him the offer.

 

Inez hadn't known who she was then, but she remembered the way the woman had looked. Angry, but more than that. Enraged, as if his refusal had been a personal rejection.

 

As if he had ruined her entire plan.

 

And it occurred to her, suddenly, that perhaps – perhaps he had.

 

But it hadn't lasted long, and eventually, Vin had agreed, after the others had. And after JD and Buck had returned with a very angry and drunk Chris Larabee from Purgatorio.

 

Vin sighed, shaking his head. “I appreciate what you're saying, Inez. But truth is, I don't know where to look anymore. And I don't know how I'm gonna go up there and tell him.”

 

She reached out, placing her fingers on his hand. His skin was warm and dry, rough from the days in the sun and sand, and his muscles twitched at her touch. She wondered why, what caused him to worry at her touch, but perhaps it was because it was unexpected. “You will do this as you do everything. You will look him in the eye and you will tell him what you know. And tomorrow morning, you will do the other thing that you do: you will get up and you will start over again.”

 

He looked down at her fingers on his and then he looked back up, meeting her gaze. “Yeah, reckon I will. Don't know how to do it any other way.”

 

She smiled. “There is not other way – you know that, too.” She let her hand settle on his, her fingers curling over his knuckles and under, her fingertips touching his palm. 

 

He didn't move away, and after a while, he relaxed.

 

They sat that way, silently, for a while, she content in her own thoughts and in the contact, giving back to him what he would take. He was not a man who liked to rest on others – she had known that from the first time they met. So it meant a lot to her that he was willing to stay here, content, with her for this short time.

 

And eventually, as she had known it would, their time ended. The saloon grew more crowded as the night settled and Matthew lit the lights, and then the squeak of the batwing doors was barely heard under the loud and very familiar voice of Buck Wilmington, making light of something that JD was saying.

 

She drew her hand away at the same instance that Vin pulled at his. They both started rise, and she looked at him, almost laughing at the unfamiliar expression on his face. Panic.

 

But before either of the could speak, Buck and JD were there, calling out their names as if they had come a long distance and hadn't seen them in years – instead of the few hours it had been since that morning.

 

“Dinner?” she asked, looking directly at Buck even as she gathered the empty glasses from the table. “I have your favorite, JD -”

 

“His favorite?” Buck asked. “What about my favorite? When are you going to make that stuff I like?” he demanded, tossing his hat on the table and pulling out a chair. It was a good thing to see; like Vin – like them all – Buck had been grim and short-tempered for weeks, even with JD. It had only been in the last few days that he had started sounding like himself again, stopped being so deadly serious. 

 

“I make what you like every day, Senor,” she said, arching an eyebrow and trying to act stern. “You say that whatever I put in front of you is your favorite – and it helps that you can never remember the names of any of my meals.” 

 

“Now that just ain't true!” Buck protested but at the same time, JD said, “She's right, Buck, you don't know the difference between a tamale and a burrito, or a taco and a quesadilla.” 

 

“That is plain wrong,” Buck said, slapping his hand on the table. “I know that one of them things comes with a right nice brown gravy sort of thing that I happen to like a lot.” 

 

“But you don't know which one?” Inez asked, grinning. She noticed that Vin had sat back down and though he was quiet, the corners of his lips twitched with something a little like amusement. 

 

“Well, now,” Buck said, blustering, “gimme a minute here, I have to think about this.. . Vin, ain't you got a thought here?” 

 

Vin shrugged a little. “Think dinner is well worth the two bits tonight,” he said, his voice still low but not as grinding. “You'll like it.”

 

“You done et?” Buck asked. “Didn't think you'd been in town that long.” His mood turned serious and Inez could see the darkness in his eyes. 

 

She spoke quickly, trying to delay the moment as long as she could. “I will bring you food, and JD? Tell Matthew that you need three beers,” she said, pushing the younger man toward the bar. “And I hope, Senor Buck, that you figure out what it is that you are eating.”

 

She heard Buck protesting and JD laughing at him – but under it, she also heard a soft sound that could have been Vin chuckling. She hoped so.

 

Manuel had begun cleaning the kitchen, but there was still enough food for her fix two plates. In fact, there was enough for three, though the third one was smaller than the other two. She put the plates on a tray with an extra plate of tortillas and headed back to the table. JD, she noticed, was still at the bar, but he had the beers in front of him – he was talking to the bartender.

 

 

When she got back to the table, the mood was once more somber, with Vin looking down at his hands while Buck talked to him quietly, until he saw her approach. His words stopped and the grim look on his face changed instantly to a smile.

 

It was a sincere smile, Inez knew that, but it was also a way to distract her from what they were saying. And she could tell from the way Vin looked that he was sinking back into his earlier despair. 

 

As she put the plates on the table, sliding the one that was less full in front of Vin, she said, “I hope that the two of you are discussing how you will start all over again tomorrow. I know that it is disappointing, but as I told Vin, this woman has had many years to plan this. I cannot believe but that she has known for a very long time what to do if things did not go as she planned.” She glanced toward the bar, seeing JD gather up the glasses as he grinned at Matthew. She leaned down between Vin and Buck and looked from one to the other, forcing them to meet her eyes. “I owe the two of you my life,” she said quietly. “And so does he. You have not failed him, not yet. The only way you can do that is by giving up.” 

 

Before either of them could answer, she straightened back up and clapped her hands as JD made it to the table. 

 

“Didn’t see you come back!” he said as he set the mugs down and then sat down at his plate. “This looks great, Inez! Buck, you figured out what it is yet?” 

 

“It’s – it’s – Inez’s specialty!” Buck said, looking down at the plate. 

 

“Inez,” Vin said, “I done -”

 

“Yes,” she said, putting a hand on Vin’s shoulder. “It is my specialty – which is whatever I have in the kitchen to cook!” She grinned. “Tonight, it is black beans with chicken, fresh onion salsa, and all the tortillas you want. And that is all that I have left for today, so tomorrow will be something different. Eat, while it is still hot.”

 

“That salsa’s always hot,” Buck said, but he grinned as he picked up his spoon. 

 

She looked down at Vin and nodded, and he nodded back. Then he, too, ate, but this time, his bites weren’t as large or fast. 

 

This time, he seemed to enjoy the food, and, as JD and Buck teased and taunted each other, he seemed to relax. 

 

She left them to themselves, going to help Matthew and Manuel with the clean up, but later, as she was putting away the clean glasses, she looked up to find Vin standing in front of her. 

 

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Reckon I needed to hear that from someone other than – well, the boys.” 

 

She smiled at him, thinking that he looked better now – still tired, still too sharp and thin, but the weight of the world wasn’t pressing him down quite as much. “Are you going now to talk to him?” she asked, glancing outside. 

 

Vin shook his head. “No need to wake him for nothing. Buck said to wait until morning, let him - and Nathan – get some sleep. Reckon some sleep will do me good, too. Might clear my head a little.” 

 

“It will,” she said. “A good night’s sleep will do you well. And – some more food. Before you leave, stop by and I will have some things for you to take. You will have more luck if you are not distracted by hunger.” 

 

“You ain’t gotta do that,” he started, holding up a hand.

 

But she pushed on, talking over him. “I want to do it. I cannot do what you and Buck are doing, I cannot get out there on the road and hunt for this woman. But I can help you do it. And I will. Just as you helped me.” 

 

He sighed, but nodded. “Thanks. I – well, I – thanks.”

 

She nodded in return. “Sleep well.”

 

He touched his fingers to his hat brim and turned away. 

 

She slept well herself, though she did wake earlier than usual. Which was why she had food and coffee packed and ready for him when he showed up, easing in the back door hours before the saloon was normally open. In the harsh light of the morning, he still looked worn but not as tired – and not as dusty. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d taken a trip by the bathhouse at some point, and his clothes were clean. 

 

“So do you have a plan?” she asked as he handed him a cloth sack of provisions. 

 

He smiled slightly. “You were right about sleep,” he said. “I had a vision – well, a dream. Reminded me of something I thought a while back but didn’t get a chance to get back to. I’m heading back to Red Rock, gonna talk to that county clerk again.” 

 

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but the fact that he had a plan was all she cared about. “Good,” she said. “And you will not be away so long this time?”

 

He shrugged. “Can’t make no promises. If I get an idea ‘bout where she is – well, I don’t aim to let her get away.” 

 

Inez nodded, expecting no less. “Be safe.” Instinctively, she reached out and touched his hand. “If there is anything I can do -”

 

“You done did,” he said, smiling. “See you when I get back.”

 

She watched him slip out the door,  closing it silently behind himself. 

 

A little while later,  as she pushed open the doors to the saloon and stepped out to sweep the boardwalk, she saw Chris Larabee sitting in his usual place. He was looking at her, perhaps his attention caught by the movement of the doors and her own appearance. 

 

She nodded at him and turned to her sweeping, thinking again of the way that his men  cared for him. The lengths to which they would go for him. 

 

As she thought,  she felt the heat of his gaze on her, the weight of his pain. It reminded her that while she had lost a lot, he had lost more. 

 

She couldn’t imagine how she would feel if she had lost what he had. But she did know how she felt about the men who cared for him. 

 

The people who cared for him. 

 

She had this on her mind as she turned and found him standing in front of her, holding on to the timber than held the roof over the boardwalk. 

 

“Oy!” she said, pulling the broom back before she hit him. “Senor Chris!”

 

He took a deep breath and she noticed that he was holding tight to the beam, his body swaying from side to side as if his knees would not hold him. 

 

She looked around, seeing a chair close by, and she moved to get it. But as he hand caught the top and started to pull, he said, “I’m all right.”

 

His voice was soft but also grinding, reminding her of Vin’s voice from the night before. As if there were sand caught in the cogs of it.

 

“You should sit,” she said, still pulling at the chair. She noticed that Josiah was standing in the distance, a soft smile on his long face.

 

“Ain’t staying that long,” he said. “Just wanted to say thank you. Buck, Vin – all of them. Thank you.” He turned, still holding to the beam.

 

“Senor Chris,” she said, stepping past him so that she could look him in the eye. “I am honored by your visit, but – I do not know what you are thanking me for.” She studied him, thinking about Don Paulo and his father, about all the men she had known with power and control.

 

He met her gaze, his eyes soft. “For taking care of them when I can’t,” he said so quietly that she had to search for the words. “For giving them faith.”

 

She stared at him. “You are wrong, senor,” she said, thinking it through. “You give them faith. All I do is remind them.”

 

He frowned, the lines of his face drawing together and showing that like Vin, he had lost a lot of weight. And a lot of his self confidence. He looked away and his mouth worked, as if he were searching for words.

 

When no sounds came out, she took a step closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I do not know the truth of what happened at that place. But I do know that these men will find it. You should trust them. And you should trust that in time, you will do the same for them. It is in the nature of who you are and who they are – and more importantly, who you all are together.”

 

With that, she stepped back and turned away, pushing open the doors to her saloon and stepping inside.

 

He didn’t follow, but she hadn’t expected him to.

 

He went back to his chair, but there was something different about it. She didn’t notice it at first, but the next few times she saw him, he wasn’t staring down the road, as if waiting for trouble.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
